Something Red
by Raspberry-Caramel-Desires
Summary: Sedusa drabbles. She always liked the color red. A little SedusaxMs. Bellum near the end. Romance-ish? If you squint. T for cursing.


**Title: Something Red**

**Summary: Sedusa drabbles. She always liked the color red. A little SedusaxMs. Bellum near the end. Romance-ish? If you squint.**

**Notes: I don't know why this happened. I never thought that I would be a girlxgirl shipper in this fandom (completely ignoring my support of shoujo-ai in other fandoms) But for some reason, I love this ship. And it's totally under-appreciated. Oh well. I hope I'll inspire more stories in this vein. Although I doubt it XD**

**Also note: I couldn't stop laughing when Sedusa mentions Ms. Bellum's "long, graceful neck." Sure. You can definitely find the words "Ms. Bellum's neck" and "long" in the same sentence. Especially if "freakishly" is in there too.**

Ima tossed her pink hair, flirting with the men in the supermarket. She only flirted with the obviously single men…and maybe the obviously married men too. It didn't make a difference. In the end, they were all the same. Such easy pickings. So easy to tempt, to _seduce_.

Men were all the same. So simple minded. So given to base desires. Not that she was quite superior on that point.

She snorted as she "accidentally" stole her groceries. Whoops. Anyway, she thought as she hightailed it back to her apartment, maybe Femme Fatale might have something going with her whole "men are trash" theory. They were slaves of passion, all of them.

After years of keeping up with her lifestyle of screwing men, first in bed, then out of their money, Sedusa was getting tired. Had it already been years? Christ, she was getting old. Of course, that had never stopped her.

Sedusa swung through her window and collapsed into a chair, yanking off her pink wig with a groan.

Getting old _had_ to account for all of these…mellow thoughts. She tossed off her demure little pink heels-God, they were _pretentious_-and tugged on her thigh-high boots. Ugh. Much better. She then got to work tearing off her pink dress (hell, who cared if she ripped it? She had many more anyway) to reveal her fishnet stockings and red one-piece.

Sedusa turned towards her red vanity and smirked at her reflection. Yeah. That was more like it.

She slid her hands into her elbow-length gloves. Definitely better.

Sedusa twisted a lock of her dark, kinky hair (she almost giggled-her, _giggle_-at the thought that even her _hair_ was kinky) around her finger and pursed her lips.

At least the grocery shopping was done. She hated grocery shopping. The stores were always filled with stupid, loud, snotty kids and their stupid moms who didn't even know how _lucky_ they were that they had a family, how lucky that people didn't recoil in disgust when they saw what they truly looked like…

Sedusa snorted. She was starting to sound _jealous_. Ha. That was laughable. As if she would be jealous of those sheep-like women, those entirely dependent creatures that needed their husbands to tell them left from right.

What idiots.

Seriously, though. Grocery shopping sucked. Majorly. It didn't help that she had to do it in those modestly feminine clothes that practically made her barf whenever she saw them. And _pink_…Ugh.

She looked better in red.

Plus, pink always reminded her of those girls. Those stupid goody-two-shoe _Powerpuff Girls_. God, even the name was sissy.

Those girls got way too much credit. Saving the city from a few monsters with no brains and even less originality? Tch. Try being a successful female cat burglar in a totally male-dominated industry. Now, _that _required real skill.

She had even _defeated_ the Powerpuff Girls once! They were totally beaten, stuck to windows with hair gel (you hear that, hair gel! Now _that's _real creativity.) and they never would've gotten away if it hadn't been for that meddling secretary.

Ms. Bellum? Yeah, Ms. Bellum.

Sara Bellum.

Sara Bellum…Cerebellum…Sedusa laughed at her pun. Yeah. That Bellum woman had brains. _She _made a life for herself. And if the "Ms." Was anything to go by, she'd done it _without_ a man.

And it wasn't like the woman couldn't get a man if she wanted one. She could have dozens trailing her every step as soon as she snapped her fingers.

Tall, statuesque, flaming sunset hair, a sexy, husky voice that would leave anyone burning with desire and with power and a good fashion sense to boot (at least, a good fashion sense in Sedusa's eyes because lord, did Sedusa have a weakness for anything in red), the woman was every man's dream.

And she could seriously kick ass.

Sedusa's lips curled into a small frown. Yeah, she definitely remembered that. Her fingertips touched the ends of her hair. It still hadn't grown back to it's original length since Ms. Bellum had sheared it off.

Yeah. The bitch had frigging shaved her head. That wasn't something Sedusa was prepared to forgive.

Shaving her head had been cold. Calculating. Almost cruel.

Sedusa loved it.

Not the shaving part, of course. But the action was definite proof of a kindred spirit. Seriously. They were both ambitious women who got to their position in life _alone_. Sedusa couldn't help but respect that.

Ever since the redhead had beaten her up, practically drowned her and then cut her hair off, Sedusa had held the woman in a definite position of respect.

Yeah, Ms. Bellum was a bitch, that was for sure, but she was a bitch who fought back, and that was what caught Sedusa's attention.

She liked women that took control of their lives.

_Christ_, Sedusa thought, falling back onto her bed and kicking a booted leg into the air, _Femme Fatale must really be rubbing off on me._ It was true. She couldn't remember being so inclined to like someone based on their lack of a husband.

Ms. Bellum.

"Sara," Sedusa whispered aloud. Mmm. She liked the silky feeling of the name, the hiss of the _s_ and the soft vowels curling around her tongue. _Sara_.

She had always liked the name Sara.

It suited Ms. Bellum, really. _Sara_. Fashionable, clean-cut, yet not overstated. _Sara_.

Sedusa thought that she and Sara might really get along, given the chance.

Her lips curling into a small sardonic smile. Really. Who was she kidding? Sara would never give her a chance. She was a bad guy and Sara was a good guy. It was as simple as that.  
Or, it should've been as simple as that.

Try as she would, Sedusa couldn't leave the subject alone. She kept on imagining Sara's soft, throaty voice, the curve of her hip clad in that sleek red dress.

Red. God, Sedusa loved the color red.

And lord, did Sara wear it well. Red. Mmm.

Sedusa sat up on her bed and tossed the scraps of her pink dress a contemptuous glance. She had never liked pink.

What a pretentious color. Softer than red. Less rough-edged. It had never suited her.

Sedusa's thoughts shifted, seemingly irrevocably, to thinking about the redhead. The soft curve of her cheek and that long, graceful neck.

Attempting any kind of relationship, even just friendship, with the redhead would be difficult. Certainly riddled with complications.

A smirk lifted one corner of her mouth. Then again, who was she kidding? She _lived_ for complication.

Their relationship (which, Sedusa was convinced, would _definitely _work out,) wouldn't be soft and modest, oh no. It would be something…more dangerous. More rough-edged. Something…red.

Sedusa lifted herself off of her bed with a grin and decided to pay a visit to Townsville Hall. And hell if she would change back into that stupid pink dress. She was going as is.

In something red.


End file.
